Louie had stayed there all night with her father, who had tried to kill himself, and would have done so if Louie had not snatched the revolver from him and fired it off, wounding him, it was said. She was with him now, and the lawyer and cashier were with her and no one else was allowed to go in. Herbert did not believe the first of the story, but was glad of the last, for if no one was allowed in the bank, he would not be expected to go in. He was sorry for Louie, but too cowardly to identify himself very prominently with her in the face of this trouble and before the curious world. Fear of his father restrained him, and although he expressed himself strongly as sorry for Mr. Grey, and even asserted his belief that he would pay every indebtedness in time, he made no effort to enter the bank, but hovered near the door, hoping to get a sight of Louie, and hearing her voice once as she said: “I wish the carriage would come. Will they molest father, do you think, when they see him?” Then all his manhood rose to the surface. Molest Louie’s father! He guessed not, when he was there, and he waited for the carriage and talked to the crowd, which, in some respects, was different from that on the day of the run. Then there had at first been fierce anger, which had resolved itself into excitement and haste when it was known that the money was forthcoming. Here the anger was more intense because more quiet. The case was probably a hopeless one—they would never get their money—and some of the men had a dangerous look as they spoke together in low tones and watched the entrance to the rear yard to the bank. When the Grey carriage came up, there was a murmur like the low muttering of distant thunder, and Herbert drew near to the gate, around which some of the most angry men were standing. But whatever the people felt was kept down by the sight of the man, who had aged ten years since they saw him. All his elasticity and erectness of figure was gone, and he stooped as he walked, with Louie and the cashier on either side of him. The crowd was very quiet as it watched him with something like pity in their hearts. Then suddenly a stone crashed against the side of the carriage and bounded off upon the walk. Then a second followed, hitting one of the horses and making him rear upon his hind feet. The stones came from the same group of boys who, during the run, had shouted themselves hoarse for Grey, the honest banker, and given three groans for Old Money Bags. Now Grey was down, and Money Bags was up, and the boys were carrying out the brutal instincts of their class. “It’s a shame!” Herbert said, starting for the boys; but Nancy Sharp was there before him, her brawny arms scattering the boys right and left, and her big hand seizing one by the hair and holding him fast while she shook him vigorously.